


The Improbability of Perfection

by SBG



Series: New Life [7]
Category: Emergency!
Genre: M/M, Memorial Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-28
Updated: 2012-05-28
Packaged: 2017-11-06 04:04:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/414494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SBG/pseuds/SBG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What could be better than a day in the sun with friends and family, eating, drinking and being merry? Roy has a good day, almost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Improbability of Perfection

**Author's Note:**

> Er, I know the story has nothing to do with Memorial Day as the holiday it is intended to be, and everything to do with how many celebrate it. :/
> 
> Also, this went somewhere.

The crew of Los Angeles County Fire Department Station 51 couldn’t have gotten a better day for their annual Memorial Day picnic if they’d ordered it out of the Montgomery Ward catalog. The temperature was moderate to warm, the sky blue above the haze of smog and dotted with just the right number of fluffy clouds. A slight breeze blew from the east, gentle and bearing no acrid hint of impending fire threat thanks to an uncharacteristically wet spring. The smell of charcoal and beer was thick in the air, the shouts of children laughing and playing would raise anyone’s spirits. 

Roy had missed last year’s picnic; neither he nor the kids had been ready to attend such large, public events without Joanne as early as Memorial Day then. There had been other company events, bigger and smaller later in the year that they had made it to, but there was something about this weekend that held a special place in his heart. It was the start of summer, which, sure, brought ridiculous heat, brushfires and the Santa Anas. None of that seemed to matter so much when it was right on the cusp, with only the promise of easy, grilled dinners and a feeling of relaxation during the off hours. He guessed, too, that he still held onto that childhood joy of three months in the sun and surf, even if he fried like chicken in the sun and couldn’t surf if his life depended on it.

His smile faltered a bit, when he considered that this, too, had always been a favorite gathering of Joanne’s. She and the other wives would huddle and talk about things Roy didn’t really want to know details of. If he looked at the cluster of women here and now, he might half expect to see Jo there. He realized it had been almost a month, that day in the cemetery when he swore the air around him had changed, since he’d thought of her in more than fleeting moments now and again. He glanced toward the women, saw Cap’s and Stoker’s wives, Chet’s girlfriend and some of B shift’s wives who he couldn’t immediately identify; C shift was on duty this year. There were no ghost images of Joanne. She was not there, telling stories he never wanted to know but was also always curious about.

He smiled at Bev Stanley when she looked over, despite the pitying expression he read in her eyes even from a distance. Roy didn’t need the pity, so he didn’t really pay any mind when people still occasionally slipped and let him see it. It was human nature, aided by the fact no one could truly know how good his life was at the moment. Most people probably figured he was a struggling single father still trying to cope as best he could. That was partly true. Nothing about his life was easy, per se. But it was partly and spectacularly not true as well. He wanted to tell them all how wrong they were, for his own personal satisfaction and perhaps to make Johnny feel better, like less of a dirty little secret. Roy frowned. He hated that in the necessity of subterfuge, Johnny _could_ be perceived that way because of the way things had to be. 

They’d discussed it and both come to peace with the nature of their relationship. That didn’t, Roy thought, make it any easier at times. He wasn’t prone to publicly showing his affection anyway, but that he honestly couldn’t go give Johnny a hug or a simple peck on the cheek felt stifling and it made him want to do those things. He definitely couldn’t do the other thing he had an intense and growing urge to do, namely go lick at the sweat streaming down Johnny’s back, taste the salt and sunscreen against his tongue. Nope, couldn’t and shouldn’t even allow himself to think about it. He shifted on the picnic table bench, unobtrusively pressed his can of cold beer against his crotch. 

“Head’s up!” Chet shouted.

Roy caught sight of the Frisbee whirling through the air right for him, someone’s aim clearly gone awry in the rousing game of Frisbee Golf Chet, Johnny and a handful of others were all playing. He himself preferred to sit in the shade as a spectator thanks to his genetic disposition to sunburn, and what a view he had. The Frisbee plopped to the ground at his outstretched feet and as he leaned down to retrieve it, he also watched Johnny appreciatively as his partner trotted over to collect the disk. He smiled as he handed the Frisbee to Johnny, whose smile back was as bright as the sunshine. Roy’s mouth went dry when Johnny bent close, looking for all the world like he was going to plant a kiss on Roy’s lips for a moment before he clumsily grabbed the Frisbee and straightened abruptly. Both of them looked nervously around at the others. No one seemed to notice the slip.

“Thanks, Roy. Now can you tell me how I’m supposed to make this shot?” Johnny asked, voice hoarse. He cleared his throat and shouted, “Thanks a lot, Kelly. You did this on purpose!” 

“Suck it up, babe,” Chet shouted back. 

“Smarmy little elf.”

Roy laughed at Johnny’s muttered remark. He enjoyed the muscles shifting and the lines created by Johnny flinging the Frisbee toward its target. Whatever that was, Roy didn’t care. His partner’s back, chest and torso were paler than his arms but where Roy fried in the sun, Johnny quickly became golden. Several days mowing lawn shirtless, puttering around doing home repairs, and the T-shirt marks faded. The same went for those skinny legs of his, protected by long trousers at work and jeans most of the time beyond that and were winter white a week ago but had already gained a tan. Johnny’s genetics were Roy’s gain, as far as he was concerned. He got to revel in the beautiful bounty of smooth, tanned skin. But, on a more appropriate subject and speaking of genetics, it was probably time to get his two wayward children over here for another coating of sunscreen. 

“Hey, send Chris and Jenny over here for a minute, would you?” Roy asked before Johnny could take off to rejoin the rest of the players.

He waggled the Coppertone bottle at Johnny, who grinned and nodded. He jogged over to the laughing group of adult men and the gaggle of kids that trailed after them. Roy smiled at the way Johnny’s arms waved about, pointed in his direction, and the way he saw Chris dig his heels in and refuse while Jenny beamed at Johnny and immediately moved toward Roy. To his surprise, the whole group came over, still laughing.

“Figured we could all use a break,” Johnny said with a smile and a nod toward Chet. “Some of us are looking like lobsters despite having a long lost Indian princess in our family trees.”

”Ha ha, Gage,” Chet said, grimacing His face was bright, hectic pink, his skin much like Roy’s in that he had two basic settings: white and red. “I’m not burnt, it’s just hot out here.”

Roy supposed it was to those running around in the sunshine. He’d been spoiled, lounging in the shade. He watched silently as the men went for beers and the kids dove into the ice chests for bottled soda, tilted his own beer to his lips and took a long drink. Johnny collapsed next to him on the bench. Droplets of the sweat Roy wanted so badly to lick landed on his arm, sent a shiver through him he managed to quell before it became obvious. He really had no idea why he was having such a time of it today. Both he and Johnny had become adept at disguising their feelings as the deep friendship everyone already knew they had.

“Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt, I guess.” Johnny nudged Roy with his elbow. “I swear for a minute out there I could smell him cooking.”

“Well, we’re not all redskins. Besides, I’ll get some sympathy out of this, which is more than I can say for your skinny butt.” Chet gave a small leer and looked toward his girlfriend and called, “Lucinda? Can you come over here, sweetheart?”

Lucinda, a slim, petite blonde with dimples in her cheeks, was the epitome of the classic American girl next door. Roy had no idea how Chet managed to snag her and tried not to think too much about it. He did frown at the way the couple openly touched each other, something like envy roiling in his gut. He nudged Johnny’s knee, just to make sure his partner was okay. Slight pressure in return was all he got and all he needed.

“Oh, baby, you need to put more sunscreen on. You poor thing,” Lucinda said. She tsked and reached for one of the scattered bottles on the picnic table. “Let me help you get the spots you can’t reach. Sit down right here and let me take care of you.”

Chet sent a gloating look in Johnny’s direction. To his credit, Johnny didn’t rise to the bait. To Roy’s credit, he knew why and felt a little fluttery thing in his chest at the ways John Gage had changed in the short, official length of their relationship. That was him, his influence, he thought with no small amount of pride mixed in with the love. He slid a sidelong glance at Johnny as he calmly drew a long drink of beer while Chet moaned and carried on at Lucinda’s ministrations right next to him. For months now, Chet had tried to worm information about “the mystery woman” out of John, all to no avail. It hadn’t taken long for Chet to come to the conclusion there was no mystery woman at all. Roy smiled, a little sadly, at the truth of that. 

“It’s a shame you don’t have a girlfriend, Gage,” Chet said smugly. “Ooh, right there, Cinda.”

The sunscreen application had turned into some sort of weird massage. Roy shifted uncomfortably. Not only was he not one for public displays himself, he also didn’t much care to witness shenanigans like Chet and Lucinda were exhibiting. 

“I don’t need lotion on my back, Kelly,” Johnny said, mild but with a biting undertone. “Redskin, remember?”

Yeah, security in their own happiness was one thing. It didn’t mean that this kind of one-upmanship was particularly easy for Johnny to take. His personality was larger than life, and even with Roy’s influence and the copious amounts of sex they had … well, Chet Kelly was like one of those tiny little burrs that caught in a sock. It wasn’t a huge pain, just a constant, worrying itch that could drive a man right on around the bend in rapid order.

“Babe, it’s not about the _lotion_.” Chet quirked an eyebrow and his moustache twitched as he smiled. “If you know what I mean.”

“I get it, I get it.”

“I think we all get it,” Roy muttered. 

He turned Jenny, kneeling between his legs and patiently having sunscreen rubbed into her shoulders, away from the scene. This was getting ridiculous. Lucinda didn’t seem to notice the commotion she had a direct hand in creating, or she did and just didn’t care. If anything, she appeared to be enjoying herself immensely. She kept shooting Johnny looks Roy read as lecherous (and he should know) as she continued to massage Chet’s shoulders, and he tried not to bristle. He told himself it was as much for Chet’s dignity as his own territorial reaction.

“Jeez, Chet, lay off,” Marco said dryly, from where he was leaning against the tree. “Whatever you’re trying to do, Johnny’s not biting. Besides, he’s not the only one without a girlfriend. You’re being insensitive.”

“Marco, pal, you know I didn’t mean…”

“Sure you did, Chet,” Stoker chimed in. “And I don’t need my kids seeing you put on a hootchy kootchy show.”

Chris and Jenny, along with Stoker’s boys Alec and Marty, started making kissy noises and soon the whole group was giggling and laughing, the tension bleeding from the air. Lucinda giggled, rolled her eyes and finally lifted her hands off of Chet’s bare back. Mike and Roy slathered their kids with lotion and sent them off for a few more minutes of playtime before the food was ready. Already, some of the women were laying out their dishes and roping husbands and boyfriends over to help. Including Chet, who followed Lucinda around like a puppy. Between that and their little performance, Roy started having an inkling as to how the unlikely pair had ended up together, or at the very least how they stayed together.

Marco, Mike and Johnny lingered with Roy at the picnic table, joined by Bill Denning and Dave Collins, the B shift engineer and one of the linemen. Roy didn’t pay much attention to the conversation. It was about baseball or something. His attention was split between watching his kids laughing and playing and sneaking glances at Johnny’s profile. As far as he was concerned, this day was perfect. His little family was happy, relaxed. He smiled to himself. 

The two captains, Stanley and Hookraider (who was surprisingly relaxed), had commandeered the grill and before Roy knew it, Captain Stanley shouted for everyone to come and get it. The spread was amazing, as it always was. Potato salad, green salads, hot dogs, burgers, fruit. For several minutes, the laughter and conversation died down in favor of food consumption. Roy made it a point to sit next to Johnny rather than across from him. He couldn’t risk ogling his partner with everyone so close. Lucinda, however, had no such reservations and sat across from him with Chet at her side. The meal went quickly, the adult men who’d gallivanted in the sun for a solid hour consuming enough for two people each. There was still going to be enough left over for another meal later. 

“Anyone know who made the cake?” Johnny asked. “It looks incredible.”

“Oh, I did,” Lucinda said, perky as ever. She gazed at Johnny with adoration. “It’s called a Better Than Se … er, uhm, _Anything_ Cake.”

Roy appreciated the way Lucinda tried to censor herself, but the way she said the word anything had most of the single men and some of the married ones squirming. The women, too, looked both embarrassed and really intrigued. Oh boy. He wondered who thought it was a good idea to bring a cake with a name like that to a company picnic. Lucinda, apparently, was an excellent companion for Chet.

“Huh.” Johnny made a point of staring at the cake, inspecting it from afar. “I don’t know.”

“What don’t you know, Gage?” Chet asked. “You saying you don’t think Cinda’s cake is better than _anything_?”

“I’ll let you know after I’ve had a piece, Kelly, but I have to say that if you think a cake is better than _anything_ , then you can’t be doing _anything_ the right way.”

As Johnny talked, his voice got husky with innuendo, and Roy knew without looking that he wasn’t the only one affected by it the same way people reacted to Lucinda before. The difference was he was the only man, of course, and that his reaction was internalized to the point he probably looked constipated rather than hot under the collar with images of he and John in the middle of _anything_ flashing through his head. 

“Well,” Marco said. “Chet, I have to say that John’s got a solid point.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“What is everyone talking about?” Chris asked.

“Nothing,” at least ten voices told him in unison.

“Why don’t you kids grab a cookie or a bar for dessert and get back out there playing?” Lisa Stoker suggested. “We grown ups are probably boring you.”

All the kids agreed, a tad too quickly in that frank way kids had of being unable to disguise true feelings. The table cleared of them fast, paper plates stuffed in the park’s garbage bins and napkins blowing in the wind. All that was left was the adults and that stupid cake, which Lucinda happily started slicing and distributing. And, hey, Roy could admit that it was a pretty delicious cake, all gooey chocolate and caramel with whipped cream and toffee. But, if he had to be one hundred percent honest, it was nowhere near as good as _anything_. Roy got the distinct impression the guys were all with him, but several of the women let out moans that sounded remarkably like, well, they were familiar sounds that generally only came when _anything_ was done right. For being of the same species, he thought men and women were so vastly different sometimes. 

“What did you think, Johnny?” Lucinda asked as Johnny scraped at the cake crumbs on his plate. 

“It was very good. I enjoyed it. Pretty sweet, though.” Johnny flicked his gaze to Roy, then away. “I guess I’m more of a salty or savory kind of guy.”

“Oh.” Lucinda frowned. 

“Jeez, Gage, when a woman asks how something was, you tell her it was the best thing ever. Did you just hatch yesterday?” Chet said.

“I said it was good,” Johnny protested. “Lucinda, it really was tasty, okay, hon?”

Lucinda put a hand on Johnny’s forearm and kept it there a beat too long. That was it. Roy wasn’t imagining things, and by the narrow-eyed glare Chet was shooting at Johnny, he wasn’t the only one to have noticed. 

“Hey, Johnny, I just remembered I forgot something in the car. Give me a hand?”

“Sure, Roy.”

“We’ll keep an eye on your two,” Lisa said. 

“Thanks, Lis,” Roy said. “We’ll just be a minute.”

Retreat was the best option at that point. Roy had sincere doubts Johnny had the first clue that Chet’s girlfriend was rather unabashedly interested in him. Even before they were together, Johnny’s pursuit of women had been kind of oblivious and one-sided. Some explanation was needed here, and maybe some ground rules, because that jealousy in his gut wasn’t going away and he had to pull himself back just as much as he needed Johnny to get a clue. 

The parking lot was some distance away from the picnic area, fortunately. It was a good walk, well enough out of eyeshot. Roy wracked his brain to come up with some concrete reason he’d needed Johnny’s help, what precisely he’d fake forgotten. He came up blank, and remained blank the whole way there. Mostly because Johnny loped in front of him, that smooth skin, that ass of his the cruelest forms of torture today. 

_“Oh, God, right there,” Johnny moaned._

_The tight heat of Johnny’s ass enveloped Roy’s cock, his words like music in his ears. Roy loved this feeling, never wanted it to end. He rocked slowly into Johnny, keeping his thrusts gentle and steady. He leaned, lost a little of his rhythm as he pressed Johnny into the mattress, lay his chest across the expanses of Johnny’s back. Kissed his neck, fumbled for his hand and held on, resumed thrusting. The moans and pants were soft, beautiful evidence of what he was doing to Johnny. And what those sounds did to him in return, Jesus._

_It amazed him, always, and Roy wondered as he drove into Johnny, if it felt anything like as good as he made it seem._

“So, what’re we getting?” Johnny asked. Confusion knitted his brows close together, he chewed on his lip for a moment. “Roy?”

“Nothing. Sorry,” Roy said. “I just …”

The urge to kiss Johnny there and then, in the wide open, was too much. Roy took a step back. 

“You just what?” Johnny tilted his head, figuring. Realizing. After all, he wasn’t as stupid as he wanted others to believe. “Oh, Lucinda? Please. She was pretty obvious. Poor Chet. I wasn’t going to lead her on or anything. You know me better than that.”

Roy’s shoulders slumped. He was relieved. He was. He nodded.

“If you –” 

The words stuck in his suddenly dry throat. He swallowed a few times. Then Roy did invade Johnny’s space, pressed him against the station wagon and pinned him in place with his hips, and, well, erection. He heartily enjoyed the hitching breath that elicited, the warm gust of it against his neck.

“If you don’t let her touch you one more time today, not once, I’ll let you fuck me,” Roy whispered. 

Johnny tensed, his hands flew up and landed on Roy’s elbows. He held on tight, shifted his head back and stared at Roy with wide, hopeful eyes. 

“Roy, you sure?”

“I’ve been thinking about it. I want it. I’m ready.” He smiled and ducked his head. “Even without the ultimatum, to be honest, I want you to.”

It wasn’t something they talked about, really. Until this point, Roy hadn’t been certain he’d ever want it and Johnny was being so patient with him, about everything, and had no idea what a complete turn-on that was. The expressions on Johnny’s face when Roy was buried in him, though, the immense satisfaction it seemed to provoke, that was something he wanted for himself. The sheer gorgeousness of Johnny’s cock, he’d tasted it and stroked it and now he wanted more. 

“She comes near me, I’ll run the other way,” Johnny croaked.

It was as good as a promise.

They quickly sorted themselves, stopped touching and leaning and, in Roy’s case, humping, because this wasn’t them. They didn’t do stuff like this where anyone could see them. He had to admit, though, the thrill of it made willing his erection down much more difficult. Eventually, he managed and they both rejoined the picnic. No one noticed that they didn’t bring whatever thing Roy’d said he needed help with.

The afternoon passed. Roy wouldn’t say quickly, as Lucinda proved to be quite cunning in her attempts to lay hands on Johnny. And Marco. And _him_ , for God’s sake. Chet actually took it all in stride, his jealousy contained. He mentioned offhand in an unsolicited bout of oversharing with Roy that Lucinda liked to work Chet up with that stuff and that he didn’t mind himself because of the benefits he reaped from it. Still, even knowing that, it was amusing and slightly titillating to watch Johnny evade her for hours, because of what was at stake as far Roy’s own benefits to be reaped. He only wished it could happen tonight. Tired as he was, he was on edge about it. Wanted it. Imagined it.

Before Roy knew it, though, the daylight hours waned into dusk. Families were gathering their things and leaving with well wishes and tired goodbyes. Cap and his wife had left some time ago, which he’d somehow missed. He didn’t find it too difficult to round up Chris and Jenny, who were both filthy and dead on their feet. He had ample help, not that he actually needed it. He and the kids said their own goodbyes and headed for the car. Johnny and some of the single guys were going to hang back a little longer, as they always did, so all Roy got was a hand wave and a head bob.

When no one was looking, also a wink and a smile, to let Roy know Johnny had not forgotten their deal and was going to hold him to it. 

“Today was nice,” Jenny said sleepily as they stumbled along. “I had fun.”

“Me, too,” Chris said, just as tired.

“I’m so glad, guys,” Roy said. “It was a pretty perfect day.”

It had been, truly. The sense that summer was finally here warmed him, and so did his plans with Johnny. They were going to have to figure out how to handle the kids, now that school was out. Their first summer together, Roy realized with a smile. Maybe that was why he’d been so itchy today. 

He got the back of the wagon loaded and the kids belted into their seats, then headed round to the driver’s side. It was only then he noticed a slip of paper tucked under one of the windshield wiper blades. He frowned and looked at all the other cars, thought it odd that someone would come to a park to distribute flyers. There were no papers on any other vehicle. Roy opened the paper and immediately felt ill. He glanced around, as if he’d magically see who’d written it. There wasn’t anyone in the parking lot at that moment. He read the note again, hoping that the words might change.

_Please do not consider this a threat. It isn’t my business, but you and J should be more careful. – A concerned friend._


End file.
